


what if we kissed in a market square and you were a medieval knight and we were both guys... jk... unless?

by bashfulberry



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, I figured it will be more of an AU that an actual crossover after all, I haven't rewatched the movie before writing, M/M, Penny is Eliot's cousin here, Small Towns, So yeah, The Knight Before Christmas (2019) AU, To Be Continued, To Be Edited, because I felt like it, it was VERY spontaneous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27772549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashfulberry/pseuds/bashfulberry
Summary: Eliot has had up to here with family holidays and his family in general. He decided to spend this Christmas on his own terms. Which apparently involved not only nutmeg, but also a medieval knight magically brought to modern times.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	what if we kissed in a market square and you were a medieval knight and we were both guys... jk... unless?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Queliot Knight before Christmas AU fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/718909) by fishfingersandscarves. 



> written in an hour during NaNo relay race, not beta read (yet)  
> TBC somewhere in the future

It was five days till Christmas and Eliot had absolutely nothing prepared for the occasion. Usually, he would go over to his parents’ place, celebrate with them over nutmeg and barely muted shouts of his father screaming at some poor carolers to get away from his house. But this year he couldn’t just do that. A series of minor misunderstandings would be enough to be banned from the house for the holiday in his father’s eyes. So if he was not going to get to spend his holidays like this this year, he decided to add some fuel to the fire and come out to them. After all, what else can they do at a time like this – he wasn’t invited anyway and their anger should calm down a bit before he’s to next set foot in the house. All things considered, he wasn’t that bad – for the first time since he remembered he didn’t have to deal with his racist grandpa, creepy uncles, and aunt who got way too drunk way too quickly, even for this family’s standards. And above all, he did not have to hide a big chuck of who he was before his ever judgmental father. For the first time in recorded history he was free on holidays. He could be who he really was and discover what that means for how he actually wanted to celebrate Christmas. The quickest thought that came to his mind was nutmeg, and lots of it. Maybe aunt Susan had the right idea but the awfully wrong execution.

The afternoon dusk found him wandering the quiet streets of the small town of Akron in upstate New York. The street was full with people going around on their holiday-prep errands, in a way that was as crucial to any small town as the ever present rush of a metropolis or anxious “have I forgotten to pick up my kid from ballet” vibe of suburbs. He looked around. People were in rush but you couldn’t feel the anxiousness of big city rush, it was calmer, more collected, more determined in a way. Maybe it was because of the way the whole street looked that Eliot had this impression. The whole town center, total of 6 intersections, was decorated with Christmas ornaments on every lamppost, each shop window welcoming inside with figures of Santa, Christmas lights, and promises of nutmeg or apple cider inside. There was a kind of wholesomeness to it, of homeliness, and of coherency as if they had all gathered together at one point and decided how their town was going to look like this holiday season. From what Eliot’s cousin, William, had told him was the worst hidden secret of the town, they actually did. Without the false pretentiousness coming from the sole scale of a mall version of such presentation, he didn’t really mind the preplanned coordination. If anything, it made it easier for him to find his temporary place in this landscape. He knew who he was, what the town was, and so how exactly to enjoy those few days he was going to spend in this landscape. First stop, the shop with actually interesting suits and invitation to try their nutmeg. “Yes _”,_ he thought, “I might just find something for myself in this town.”

Hours have passed when Eliot made his way to the small house at the end of the town. It hadn’t taken him twenty minutes to get there from the town center, with all his being weighed down by numerous bags in his hands and a few mugs of nutmeg in his body. He put down the bags as carefully as possible, and searched for the key in his pocket. He stumbled to open the door and finally heard the click. He dragged the bags inside, closed the door behind him, and allowed himself a moment to take in the house. William was right, he did have the hand for interior design. The house was modestly but tastefully decorated, skillfully combining minimalist forms and eclectic colors and knickknacks. He noticed a few of the souvenirs William showed him from his numerous travels. Eliot couldn’t believe how a guy who travelled half of the known world had decided to keep living in the very small town he was raised in. Now, he had a little better idea. There was something to this place, not loud and stealing your attention like a neon sign, but quieter and welcoming like a fireplace warming up a cold night.

Eliot rumbled through the kitchen cabinets with their wide assortment of spices, the bedroom with its soft linen sheets and living area with its sofa and most likely the softest blanket he has ever touched. William might not find it in its place when he returns.

He settled down under the blanket and grabbed a piece of paper from the coffee table.

_Make yourself at home but not too much. It’s still my house._

_I’ll be back after Christmas_

_William_

The note also contained a shopping list of everything William wanted to have at home when he returned. And a set of hours with “feed Whiskers” written next to it.

“Shit, I forgot about the cat.”

He saw it before he heard it, a mass of fur jumping on the couch next to him, giving him a quick sniff, and moving on to settle on his lap. Purring loudly, Whiskers kneaded the material of the blanket and looked him in the eyes.

“Will didn’t say anything about you. I thought he’d take you with him. Or make a friend catsit for him for the holidays.” Whiskers made a sound somewhere between a purr and a meow. He started petting her and the purring came back with double force. “Guess “I need a place to run away from my family for the holidays” is synonymous to “Willing to housesit and catsit while you spend your Christmas in Hawaii”. I wanted to spend the holidays with someone I can actually stand and here I am alone with a cat. Oh my god, the cat actually makes it even sadder.”

He didn’t notice when he drifted to sleep, the fatigue of seven hour drive finally getting to him. When he woke up it was dark outside and Whiskers was nowhere to be found on the couch. He checked his phone. 5:27, one missed call. From mum. He didn’t have the energy to check the message, he never did and his family should have known this at this point. He put that thought aside and stumbled to the bathroom. Freshened up a bit, he made his way to the kitchen. He found a stash of instant oatmeal, perfect for the day after travel breakfast. He grabbed the bowl and settled in before the tv. Before he was done, the clock said 6:30 and Whiskers jumped on his lap, almost pushing the bowl out of his hands.

“Tell me, Will, why did you even bother to write it down when Whiskers can tell me herself when to feed her,” Eliot mumbled under his breath sarcastically.

The bags stood at the entrance as he left them the day before. With a sigh he got to unpacking them. A small white fake Christmas tree found a new home on a counter, a few small ornaments on its branches, bottles of various alcohols in the cupboard, new suit in the wardrobe next to William’s clothes and his barely unpacked suitcase.

Whatever he could say about his cousin, he had a very distinctive fashion style, not bad but extremely original that only he could pull off, but his taste in alcoholic beverages boiled down to “whatever the locals offer me and/or whatever gets me drunk”. Eliot had to stand his hand not to thrown out the shitty beers and cheap half-drunk vodka. His bottles hid the pathetic alcohol “collection” anyway.

Settled in, he went out. According to William, he _had_ to go to the Christmas market. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. He didn’t feel much like drinking alone at home with a cat. Not yet at least.

It might have been the chill air, the smell of hot chocolate in the air, or the pure amount of red in the market square but it did something to Eliot’s insides. He felt at once like he was in a fairytale land, very thirsty for hot chocolate, and really warm in a way that doesn’t have much to do with the temperature. In the assortment of vendors, entertainers, and families going around hand-in-hand, his eye caught a glimpse of a light reflected in his direction. The warm sunlight moved on the metal surface and brought his attention directly to a piece of armor. And a guy inside it. In 21st century. In the middle of a market place. Coming closer and closer at him. Fast. Chocolate spilled around at the impact, when he found himself right under a dashing knight. His holidays just got a bit more exciting. 


End file.
